Timeturner
by Zeraphie
Summary: Ginny and Harry are divorced. Suddenly thrown back in time with Scorpius Malfoy, Al is determined to keep his parents' relationship intact. But it doesn't take long to realize Harry Potter is falling in love to Draco Malfoy instead. DH, AS. Drarry, APSM.
1. Hand Me Down, Hold Me Up

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. _

**Chapter I:** Hand Me Down, Hold Me Up

In sweltering heat, Diagon Alley was bustling with crowds early August. Adolescent wizards were giddy, running in and out of stores like they were tourist destinations. Meek, young children approached Ollivander's Wand Shop with wonder, and families would march along the cobblestone streets with grins, entranced with their current surroundings.

"The _Nimbus_ looks fantastic." Albus Potter splayed a hand across the glass case, eyes scanning the long, narrow broomstick for the seventh time since they had entered the well-known quidditch store. Mahogany wood gleamed under lights, arched perfectly for any wizard who would ride it. _Nimbus 3000 _was neatly carved at the tip of the broom. Already looking at his own reflection in its container, Albus was forming strategies and calculating maneuvers for the new school year. He loved every single one of them.

James peered over his younger brother's shoulder, matching green eyes clearly showing disinterest. "A _Firebolt _would be better. Mum says that's what Dad used through most of his years at Hogwarts."

The younger teen scoffed. "Like Mum and Dad would ever let me get a _Firebolt_. Especially considering you destroyed _yours _a week after you got it for Christmas last year."

"I did _not_destroy it!" A look of irritation twisted cross James's face in a way only Albus and their sister, Lily, could provoke. "I just kind of…dismantled it a little. Maybe a lot." He began his usual protests, like he always did when trying to defend himself.

Biting back a grin, Albus couldn't help but use that to his advantage and begin a path toward the _Firebolt _James had mentioned earlier. Standing in the middle of Quality Quidditch Supplies, he began his own list of things to buy for the school year—one that wasn't required for Hogwarts. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father chatting familiarly with the cashier; probably in attempt to strike a bargain.

Switching his interests to seeker gloves, Albus felt awkward even being in the store. After getting all of their supplies for the school year, Mum and Dad had come up with the shocking agreement to allow them to buy whatever they wanted before they would have to leave for Hogwarts.

He placed a hand on a pair of fitting, red and yellow gloves and rubbed a finger across the heel of their palms. They were nice. Thick, like his first pair of seeker gloves were when they were still new. The tips were rigid, implying it would be near-impossible for a snitch's feisty wings to cut through the material.

His current pair of gloves were hand-me-downs from his brother after his second year and James's third year, when James stepped down as seeker to become a chaser. It had been a tradition in their household, and their mother's household since she was little, too. Their immediate families would pass clothes around if there was no damage done, like how their cousin Hugo never bothered asking for new clothes anymore. Just last week, Hugo was wearing what Al was pretty sure a pair of his trousers and James's old t-shirt.

"You see one you like?" Jumping, Albus turned around as Dad and James appeared over his shoulder, interest teeming in their eyes. A smile spread across his father's lips and he let out a low whistle. "A _Firebolt _is an amazing broom. But it's a lot harder to maneuver in the air because of its speed. A Nimbus has good maneuverability, but isn't as fast."

"So I've been told." Albus grinned. He put enough distance between himself and his father, then placed his hands inside his pockets. Squinting, he could only grimace at the price tag and shrugged. "I'll probably just take James's old broom. Assuming he hasn't pawned it off or something."

"If you want my old broom, you'll have to trade for it," James retorted. He paled, grimace immediately coming to his lips. "Waller plans on having the team train the moment we get back. Apparently Malfoy has been working the Slytherins all summer and training hard as hell."

At the mention of the name, youngest son could feel his teeth grind with discomfort. From the corner of his eye, Albus could see their father bite the inside of his mouth. _Malfoy _was not a name that was spoken in their household. Mum wasn't fond of it, Uncle Ron twitched and ranted, and Aunt Hermione said nothing.

It had been a peculiar thing, Al thought. Malfoy wasn't intimidating—not like what a lot of the first and second years would say when they first met the Slytherin, whether it be formally or indirectly. Other than Quidditch, Al and Malfoy never spoke to one another; a detail that hadn't been mentioned to their family. (Uncle Ron thought he was an annoying git, anyway, so it probably wouldn't have done much good.)

They were in the same year, but had Albus not been wary of the name 'Malfoy,' he probably would have never known the other teen existed. Back in first year when the Sorting Hat first called his name, Albus remembered stepping away from the table, heart pounding in his chest. From the corner of his eye he first spotted the wispy blond hair on the head of another boy. His hair was slicked back, a perfect mane of almost white hair out of his face, pointy nose distinguishing the direction of his attention, and sharp gray orbs following is every move.

Part of Albus had been ready to puke. His name—Albus Severus Potter—had already turned heads, whether it be the _Albus_, the _Severus_, or the big fat _**Potter**_. Eyes were glued to him in those few moments as the hat was placed on his head.

He didn't know he was holding his breath, until he had let it go between hearing '_Gryffin' _and '_dor.'_From that moment on, all he saw was Rose's look of, 'I told you so,' and James's splitting grin as he welcomed his younger brother to the Gryffindor House. Sharp gray eyes still bore holes into the back of his head.

And when he heard the name, _'Scorpius Malfoy_' called, cocked his head, and saw the dainty boy trek up to the small chair, he finally understood why. Grey eyes were set specifically on _him_, that entire time as the hat had a surprisingly hard time placing him.

As for actually having a conversation, it never happened. Albus once caught Malfoy snogging a Slytherin boy fourth year (which had melted into a series of awkward, 'Uh,' 'Erm,' and 'Bye.'s) before running to the Gryffindor common room, into the boys' dormitory, and burying himself under his bed wanting to die in embarrassment.

Now here he was in the beginning sixth year, and still, Malfoy and he never bothered one another.

"Malfoy got promoted to Captain this year. He's fierce," Albus agreed. He kept a watchful eye on their father's reaction, as did James. After all—even if James and _he_never caused conflict with Malfoy, Dad's rivalry with Mr. Malfoy was infamous and legendary.

"Bloody house won the damn cup last year," James muttered. He clicked his tongue, then reached for the seeker gloves Al had been eying before they came. "You know Waller was pissed. He's going to want you to train harder than any of us."

What James meant was that their captain, Waller, _expected_ it. Malfoy being the Slytherin's seeker and all. Albus shrugged, then snatched the gloves from his brother's hands and elbowed him in the rib. "I'll do it. Malfoy may be good, but _I'm_ better." A claim that _sure as hell _needed to be truthful this year.

"Hey!" James split into a smirk. Despite the near-invisible height difference, he successfully pulled his little brother into a headlock and noogied him. "If this is going to be my last year at Hogwarts, then there _better_be a House Cup in it for me!"

"Says the _git _that ate more than Uncle Ron all summer!"

"Did not!"

"Did _too_!"

"Boys," immediately their dad returned. A look of irritation spread across his face, meaning that their father meant business. Immediately his demeanor stumbled, lips twitching downward. "No horseplay. Your mother won't be happy if she finds out you two blew up another store."

There was a time where 'mother' would have been 'mum.'

Albus felt discomfort bubbling in the pit of his stomach and at the mention of her name, James released his younger brother. Both smiles of the Potter boys immediately disappeared and they grew quiet.

That normally-thoughtful look ripped away from Dad's face, replaced with a grimace. Now there was an awkward elephant in the room. "I didn't mean—I…" he sighed, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Albus. Pick out something in the store."

"Dad, I'll just take James's old—"

"Al. _Please._"

Gazing into his father's eyes, Al felt his stomach clench. He looked to James for advice, but his eldest brother feigned interest in the mirror and his reflection. James had dark, unruly hair just like Dad and he. He had a bigger build then Albus, being a chaser, but still smaller than their father, who was the auror of the family. Mum once said that James had taken an uncanny resemblance to an elf, with high eyebrows and a daring grin. It had been an great honor, when Uncle George affectionately remarked James had a resemblance to 'Freddy.'

But here they were, the three Potter men. With much effort when they were kids, Mum had managed to tame most of James's hair, until he decided to cut and crop it short, so it wouldn't get in the way during Quidditch. Lily was the lucky one in their family, taking to Mum's side with someone tamable hair. Green-eyed and dark-haired, both James and he looked just like their dad, while hilariously still taller than the savior of the Wizard World himself.

Sometimes, Al thought, it was the one thing that separated James and he from their father. And he sought relief from it.

Quickly pushing the thought from his mind, Al reached for the pair of seeker gloves he'd accidentally flung to the ground and held them up for his father to see. "These."

"You sure?" Dad frowned, clearly surprised that his youngest son hadn't asked for a new broom, like he'd been begging for since last Christmas. That was when Mum and Dad had put aside their differences and smiled throughout dinner with Uncle Ron and Uncle Hermione and the rest of the Weasley Family. _A very, very long time ago. _

Albus nodded, brushing his hand against the thick grip on the tips of each finger. "Positive."

**xxx**

Astrid Longbottom stood apart from the very center of the crowd, whether it was her wild, dirty-blond hair that tumbled behind her shoulders or the dreamy smile she wore, despite being pushed and shoved around by rude shoppers. She looked to the Potters with wonder on her face, then waved. James immediately jumped to his feet, split into a grin, and looked to his dad for approval.

"Can I go?"

Dad's eyebrows immediately knit together, frown contorting upon his lips. It was a bold question, obviously. Albus rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets, palming his new purchase. Despite the reluctance across their father's face, both knew the answer.

"I suppose it's alright," Dad sighed finally. "Wait—James."

He pulled his eldest son to the side, leaving Albus alone to 'examine' a nearby booth selling official Quidditch Team paraphernalia. From the corner of his eye, the youngest Potter son saw his brother nod obediently, eyes sporadically darting from his father to his girlfriend, and then back gain. Then, Dad said something that made James's demeanor drop.

Al turned his attention away once more. He caught sight of two other, very distinguishable blonds.

The Malfoys.

Scorpius Malfoy, the first to catch his eye, was prim and proper as Al remembered him. Hair slicked back, with a long and narrow face, his pale nose was turned in the direction of his father. Malfoy had always been naturally pale, with gray eyes as dull as the color of statue. His hair was bright blond, nearly a snowy white, and not a lock was out of place. Malfoy was tall—having gone through a growth spurt in their fifth year, and had the build of a slim, slender seeker just like Al himself. Yet he still looked tiny with Mr. Malfoy standing right next to him.

Mr. Malfoy was pretty, Albus thought. He'd never seen the man before other than the newspapers that equally described Mr. Malfoy's scandals as well as his successes (Dad once grumbled about Rita Skeeter, but Al hadn't thought much of it.) Just like Scorpius, his hair was slicked back, face long, slim, and very much pointy. They walked side-by-side. And out of the six years that Al had known the boy, he'd never seen Malfoy with a smile on his face. Especially one like _that._

Dull gray eyes were in _no_ way dull as Malfoy's mouth moved, talking to his father. Occasionally Mr. Malfoy nodded, but he made sure to keep eye contact with his son whenever responding. They were even _laughing. _(Well, chuckling.)

In all the years he'd known Malfoy, Al would see the blond in the corner of his eye, nose in a book and eyes tight. Occasionally he would nod to his little group of 'friends' that followed his every step. Most people cleared a path as the blond Slytherin came to the Great Hall or his classes, or not acknowledge his presence in the very least.

Al and he had once been assigned partners in Potions. After clumsily knocking over a jar of shrieking beetles, Malfoy quietly mumbled 'working on the project' himself and allowed Al to babble with his friends, who sat in the table adjacent to them. Not even once that day, did Malfoy ever make eye-contact with him.

Now, the middle Potter couldn't help the fascination that bubbled in his mind as he watched them enter the—

"Say hello to Neville and Luna for me!" Dad called off as James finally went to fetch his girlfriend. Albus snapped out of his thoughts, quick to look back to his father. When he turned back, Malfoy and his father were already gone. "What were you looking at?"

"Nothing," the teen lied. At least nothing that his father would find interesting.

"I assume your mother's still out shopping with Lily," Dad professed. He scratched his head and Al couldn't blame him. Clothes-shopping wasn't a hobby Potter men were fond of. Still, it was that little difference between '_Your mother'_ and '_your mum_' that made Albus sick to his stomach. "Do you need anything else?"

"Just a book that Rose forgot to buy when she and Aunt Hermione went shopping yesterday." Albus pointed to Flourish and Blotts. "She says it's important."

A chuckle ran from his father's throat as he nodded and ushered his son closer to the store. "Just like her mother. I wouldn't be surprised if she was taking extra classes."

"Her schedule is hardly free," Albus snorted. "My bet is that her head is going to explode before we finish up our seventh year." Dad _hmm'd _in agreement, and that was the end of their conversation. It took a moment to sink in, but he then realized James had left them alone. At side-glance, Albus took in the demeanor his father had worn all morning. Weary. Tired. Pleasant, when Dad smiled, but filled with trouble once left alone.

The day had been planned for at least a week now. Dad had come in the morning after three days of absence (Rose fortunately informed her Potter cousins that Dad had been staying with them), a firm, _civilized_smile on his face as he kissed Mum on the cheek and gave all three kids a gentle gaze. The family would go shopping, Mum explained. And James, Lily, and he could buy anything they wanted or needed for the school year.

Mum got Lily, Dad got James and him. When they came to that agreement, Dad looked both of them in the eye, and, '_Please don't be mad at me_,' was all either one of them could see.

"You're getting the bond removed tonight, aren't you?" Albus murmured quietly. Low enough that anyone gawking at his father wouldn't hear. "You and Mum are finalizing the divorce tonight?"

Dad stopped cold in his tracks at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. Guilt fluttered across his face, and he involuntarily cringed. "Albus..."

"It's fine, Dad." _We all saw it coming_, he didn't say.

"You, James, and Lily will be staying with your Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron tonight."

Al cocked his head to his father in surprise.

Dad swallowed hard, holding the door open for his son. "That way your mother and I can sort out our thoughts and not make it awkward for you kids-"

_Your mother. _

Entering the bookstore, Al purposefully left his dad standing at the doorway. He sucked in a breath, marching past other shoppers going who-knows-where. Anger that he'd been suppressing for months came out in pounding steps as he tried to get humanly far as possible.

Dad _used_to come home and immediately kiss Mum.

He _used_to blush bashfully, when Mum smiled at him and hold his hand.

He _used_to waltz into the kitchen without telling her when his latest case was over, whirl her around just to hear her cry of surprise and drown her in a bouquet of red roses.

Dad no longer stared across the dinner table just to take in the sight of their mother.

He no longer laughed when James or Al complained how disgusting it was that their parents were snogging.

His parents no longer snogged.

Now Albus would give anything just to see his parents flirt like two love-struck fourth years instead of hearing Mum yell in the middle of the night because Dad was unexpectedly called away for business. Or to walk into the kitchen on the morning of Dad's day off to see his parents looking one another in the eye.

It had been a long time since he saw his parents look at each other with all the love in the world. Like Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, or Victoire and Teddy.

Frustration boiled in the pit of his stomach, anger soon consuming it. His throat clenched, jaw hardened, and Al curled his right hand into a fist.

He'd known that his parents' marriage was withering-they _all_did. Him and Lily and James.

But until that very moment, not saying it aloud kept their family together.

"Damn it," Al seethed. _Damn it. _He slammed his fist into a wall of books. The shelves came undone, breaking in a symphony of firecrackers and falling to the floor as an avalanche. The teen jumped back, then yowled when one of the books his foot.

Fortunately he'd buried himself in the back of the store. As loud as the sound was, anyone who noticed gave only a second or two of attention before returning to their own business. Looking around, Al caught his father still at the front, searching for his son with distress. Great.

"Smooth."

Al turned his head at the sound of another voice. Immediately (and involuntarily) he felt his cheeks turn red, green eyes meeting with grey. Malfoy stood tall in front of him—and for a brief moment, the Gryffindor realized he stood maybe an inch tall_er_ than his rival for the first time since third year. No longer was his classmate's face flushed with a smile, or his eyes shimmering with conversation. Malfoy stood tall, grim, and very disapproving of the heap of books in the middle of the ground.

"Sod off, Malfoy." Albus dropped to the ground, eyes burning holes into the floor. His cheeks grew hot as he collected the books between his hands.

What surprised him was when Malfoy tentatively dropped to the ground, too.

Albus stared.

The tip of Malfoy's blond brow twitched, lips sauntering to a small frown. "What?"

"Why are you…?"

"I'm looking for a book." Eyebrows furrowing together, Malfoy's gaze once again fell to the ground and he picked up one in particular: _Important Modern Magical Discoveries, vol. 3. _

Ironically that was the book that Rose had wanted, Al realized. His eyebrows rose beneath his hairline and instinctively he reached out for it, grabbing the binding for the book. Gray eyes looked to him, clearly startled before melting warily. Malfoy's lip curled downward, twitching as though he was about to say something, but didn't.

"I—" Al froze. He was incredibly aware of the fact he'd impulsively reached out for the book without reason and looked like a child throwing a bloody temper tantrum. "Er. My cousin. She's looking for the book, too."

Suddenly he was also hyperaware of the color of Malfoy's skin. Pale white, like moonlight. His face was as pointy as his father's (_if that were the right word for it, _Albus later contemplated), but a light spew of freckles splayed across the bridge of his nose, so near invisible that someone had to be incredibly closed to Malfoy to see. Al had seen the other seeker plenty of times on the Quidditch Pitch, but _never_ like this. He broke away from his thoughts as he realized pale skin was being overtaken by a smooth, sanguine blush.

"Why are you blushing?" he muttered carefully under his breath. Was he going mad? To the tips of his ears, his apparent Slytherin rival was blooming red with a look of bewilderment in his gaze. Sure, any bloke would freak out if another guy was staring intently at him, but—oh. _Oh. _Al was too close.

Malfoy recoiled, yanking the book out of Al's hands and holding it close to his chest. He stood to his feet, dusting dirt off his trousers before attempting to flee away.

"Wait!" Al called midway through his stupor. "I need that book."

The lanky figure of his classmate suddenly halted in the middle of the countless aisles of books. Albus stopped, nearly tipping over and colliding with the Slytherin. He hadn't expected for Scorpius Malfoy of all people to stop for him.

"Um," he squeaked, unsure where his brain had disappeared off to, "please?"

It was the first time they ever saw each other, eye-to-eye. Malfoy and Potter. Potter and _Malfoy._ Standing in front of one another, Albus couldn't think of one occasion where they'd ever had a conversation with one another. Days at Hogwarts were spent chatting with his cousin, Rose, pulling pranks with Damian Finnigan, and desperately trying to get Alaina Creech to notice him. Once in a while their eyes would meet across the Hall, seeing what the other boy was doing, then look away, like it'd never happened at all.

Funny, the rational part of Albus's brain mused, how they'd never had a bloody conversation and somehow seemed to know each other _very_ well regardless. All because of their fathers' history in Hogwarts.

Raising his head slightly, it was the way light hit Malfoy's face that made him seem ethereal. Blond eyelashes, long and almost invisible, twitched slightly, and his brow knit together. A soft tenor reached Albus's ears, never once raised with irritation. "I saw it first."

The Golden Rule in the Potter-Weasley Household was: 'You see it first, you get to have it.' Unless you were overruled by a parent. Albus felt the heat on his cheeks. That was basically the rule of life, too, wasn't it? "Don't you have a big giant library or something in the Malfoy Mansion?"

Evidently that wasn't the proper thing to say, if his goal was to get on Scorpius Malfoy's good side (_since when did he want to get on Malfoy's good side?) _Malfoy's lip twitched and behind the dull glaze of gray eyes, irritation brimmed.

"Albus! There you are!"

"Scorpius."

At the mention of their respective names, both boys turned in the direction they heard their father. Al let out a breath of relief, hoping to get out of his current predicament as _fast as possible._ Despite his frustrations with his father, all he wanted to do was crawl back in his own bed and forget today happened.

But before he saw his father's familiar, unruly mane, he saw the prim, white-blond hair that belonged to Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy walked down the aisle of the Potions section, three particular books in his hand and an odd, somewhat satisfied smile on his lips. The moment he looked up, that content smile disappeared, eyes meeting with Al's.

Albus gulped. He looked to Malfoy from the corner of his eye, but the Slytherin looked straight past him. Down the other aisle, Dad finally found him, relief spilling across his features. The familiar feeling of guilt and discomfort buzzed in his chest, and casually he looked away to his classmate.

It looked as though Malfoy's face had gotten paler. His demeanor became tight and nose somehow less pointy. The glaze of dismissal ran away from gray eyes. He looked to Albus, expression small and reserved as each respective parent made their way toward them. Oh.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

_The _Draco _Malfoy_ and Harry _Potter._

Part of the reason they had avoided one another through Hogwarts was because of their fathers' infamous rivalry. During their first year after Scorpius Malfoy had been announced a Slytherin and Albus Potter a Gryffindor, it wasn't long before people started making bets. _Who would punch whom first? Would Malfoy hex Potter into the next century the next time they met? Who was the better wizard?_

Rose and James had done the best they could to dispel the wonder and curiosity since Albus hadn't been very confident in himself when first arriving at Hogwarts. Fortunately neither boy had taken it into stride and ignored the 'Potter-Malfoy rivalry.' Albus reveled in the fact that he was _not_ his father and never would be.

But if he was right, Dad and Mr. Malfoy hadn't run into one another since they were still students at Hogwarts or something. Otherwise the _Daily Prophet_ would be all over it. Lily once joked that if "Daddy and Mr. Malfoy" ever met again, the world would face a Third Wizarding War.

As both fathers approached, Albus felt his heart leap out of his chest. Dad looked relieved and a little bit uncomfortable. They'd never finished their conversation about tonight. Mr. Malfoy's eyes, too, kept darting between his son and Al. 'Awkward' was not a strong enough word for how Al felt at the moment.

It wasn't until both men met dead center, where Al and Malfoy stood, did the parents notice one another. Albus took a quick look to his father, who looked genuinely startled. Mr. Malfoy, too, who evidently did not expect to run into the other man. Mr. Malfoy looked as reserved and eloquent as his son did, refusing to say a word. Dad's green eyes darted between Al and his old school…rival, Al guessed.

Behind him, Al was sure he heard a soft breath draw from Malfoy's lips, like he, too, was expecting hellfire. But it never came.

Mr. Malfoy's lips parted carefully and he bowed his head. Solemnly, he muttered, "Potter."

Al cocked his head to the tall man with curiosity. Mr. Malfoy's look wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold. Instead, it looked as though he was really _scanning_ his father for everything he was worth. What Dad really looked like.

"Malfoy," Dad murmured softly. He looked to the blond man warily, but not with suspicion.

There wasn't hate exchanged between them. Dad spoke with familiarity and something else in his tone that Al couldn't quite place his finger on, and a gleam appeared in Mr. Malfoy's eyes, expression more unreadable than it had already been.

Then for a moment, their gazes lingered at one another. Dad's eyes had never looked greener as he stared into Mr. Malfoy's stone grey eyes.

"Come, Scorpius," Mr. Malfoy said loudly. All four men snapped out of their stupors and the eldest Malfoy tore his attention away from the eldest Potter. Al was certain the gesture was forced, like Mr. Malfoy was trying to look anywhere but Dad's face. "We should get going."

Malfoy nodded obediently, book still tight in his grasp. He ushered toward his father's side and pulled part of Mr. Malfoy's load into his hands. They started walking away, neither man looking back. How _peculiar. _

"W-Wait, Malfoy!" Al spoke before he could stop himself. Immediately both men turned around, but the younger Malfoy's gray eyes looked to him curiously. The poor brunet felt his mind go blank and cheeks go hot. "Um, see you at school, yeah? I heard you're captain of your house's team now."

Wrong move, number two. Something in those gray eyes stormed, eyebrows furrowing together with trouble. Malfoy had only blinked once before shaking his head. "I quit."

_What?_

Malfoy and his father walked off and Al had a feeling he wouldn't see either one again until school started.


	2. Potter and Weasley

**Author's Note: **

Thank you so much for the reviews! I hope you keep reading! (:

**Chapter II: **Potter and Weasley

"It was the most peculiar thing."

"Mmhmm. "

"I'm serious!"

"Do you think Aunt Luna and Uncle Neville would be opposed to me asking for Astrid's hand in marriage after Hogwarts?" James split into one of his dopey grins—something, Al realized, he should have noticed when his brother first entered the room.

Rolling his eyes, the middle Potter plopped onto one of the three spare beds Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron transfigured whenever he and his siblings needed a place to stay. Sleeping arrangements in the Weasley household never remained the same. There were days over the summer that Hugo and Lily would be fighting over the bed in their younger cousin's room (Lily Luna was a sleep-kicker, Hugo was a blanket hog), where the girls would gossip and giggle, or all five of them would end up in the Potter-Guest Room where in the morning, it looked as though someone had casted an Unforgivable and left the room in a mess.

Tonight was different. Lily was first to arrive in Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's home, followed by James. Shortly after their eldest brother, the younger brunet flooed with his father in tow, who also quickly left. Neither Uncle Ron nor Aunt Hermione approved, but that had been how his father was.

After the meeting with the Malfoys earlier that evening, there was an even steeper drop, Al noticed, in Dad's mood. He'd tried to comment on it several times but had only gotten two responses out of seventeen attempts.

"Look after Lily and James for me, Al," Dad said earlier. He smiled weakly and _forced_ himself to look in his son's eyes. "I'll see you again. At the station to see you off."

"With Mum?" Al was stupid enough to ask.

Dad managed a grimace, eyebrows contorting together. But faintly, he shook his head and pulled away, only offering a kiss to Albus's forehead like he was a child again. "I don't know." And with a hasty goodbye to both his best friends, Dad apparated out of the house.

"I'm worried about him," Al said quietly. There was something about Dad and Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps they had secret meetings or something where they plotted to change the Wizarding World and piss off the Ministry. But they way they looked at one another without hate—_that_ struck him as odd. There was a familiarity in their gaze that was far from wanting to rip one another's heads off.

Maybe that was the thing about being a grownup. You lost all the will to hex each other's heads off and acted like civilized adults.

"You're forgetting that Uncle Harry ran into someone that he hadn't seen in years since the war," Hugo pointed out. He looked up from a book larger than his head, titled _The Second Wizarding War as Told by a Straggler_, then smiled in that Aunt Hermione-ish kind of way. "Records show that Narcissa Malfoy lied, saying Uncle Harry was dead when Voldemort supposedly killed him. And before that at the Malfoy Manor when Mr. Malfoy was given the option to hand Uncle Harry over to Voldemort, then didn't."

Albus frowned. His brother answered for the both of them. "Ay, Hue. We all know the details—but why do _you_ know them better than we do?"

"Because _he_ didn't spend all of fourth year sleeping through History of Magic." Rose offered a pointed look next to Al on the bed, then flipped a page in her own book. James split into a grin, and the eldest Potter shared a childish look with the eldest Weasley. She rolled her eyes, look softening, then placed a hand on Al's shoulder. "Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny—"

"He's not really an uncle anymore, is he?" Lily interrupted. She looked up from the other bed, head tilted behind her so red hair fluttered to the ground. "Technically Dad was only a Weasley by marriage_._"

"That doesn't mean he isn't part of the family anymore!" Al shot back. He frowned disapprovingly, but as far as his sister was concerned, the matter was done.

James had spent the past few months with Astrid coaxing him through the divorce. He admittedly lived in denial. Their darling little sister, on the other hand, made little offhanded comments.

The corners of her lips contorted into a frown and she placed both hands on her hips. "Chill, Al. But we're going to have to choose _sides_. Mum and Dad aren't stupid, but they're ridiculously sensitive. They'll say we have the right to choose since we aren't bloody kids anymore, then use that as a competition. We're going to be playing favorites for the rest of our lives!"

"Please. _I_ turn eighteen in a few months. I'll just buy a flat somewhere in London." As a love stricken afterthought, James annoyingly added, "With Astrid."

"You're an idiot, big brother." Lily rolled her eyes.

"And you're single." James grinned. "Who's winning, Lil? Oh, that's right. _Me._"

Lil smirked back and promptly shoved the eldest Potter off the bed. As they bickered ("_Who's_ whipped? Oh, that's right, you!" "You look like a pig! What bloke would want to date _you_? Hey—Ow!"), Al sighed and decided best to leave the subject where it was. Neither of his sibs was moping, so why should he?

It was only a moment later while the eldest and youngest Potter siblings were close to a duel that Rose tugged at the end of his shirt. She frowned sympathetically and looked to him with concern. "Not that I'm not still mad you didn't get my book, but…are you alright? Al?"

He bit the inside of his lip, looking to his cousin as he tried to figure out what his problem _was._ "Malfoy told me that he quit Quidditch."

"What?" Her eyes widened. "Why?"

Uncle Ron had been disappointed when neither of his children had an interest in trying out for Quidditch. However, growing around a family that did, Rosie wasn't unfamiliar with anything. She knew about the longstanding rivalry that Al and Malfoy had and the vicious tactics thrown onto the pitch whenever Gryffindor and Slytherin went up against each other.

"I don't know," Al shrugged. In the middle of their fifth year there had been an incident on Slytherin's team. Malfoy had taken the reign as unofficial captain, leading to a victory for their house last year that landed him title as official Captain this year. "But he was as shocked as I was whenever our dads came face-to-face. He looked as sick as I felt."

"You're frowning, Al," she said softly. "Does it really bother you that much?"

He didn't realize he was pouting until Rosie had pointed it out. But indeed, the discomfort was throbbing against his chest and frustration was pounding in his head. He wasn't sure _why_ it bothered him so much, frankly. Between when they first met to after they were sorted into different houses, Malfoy and he had silently agreed to _never_ cross the other's path. They never taunted one another on the pitch and Malfoy always played clean_._

"All these years, we avoided each other. I always figured it was so that we could be civil, and…y'know, I wouldn't have to deal with being a _Potter_," Al muttered quietly so only his cousin would hear. His eyebrows contorted together and he fell back onto the bed, frustrated. "But for the first time, we've both witnessed our fathers' confrontation with one another and they didn't duke it out like half of London expect them to. What does that mean for Malfoy and I? Are we mates now?"

Rose arched an eyebrow. "You're really under the impression that because your dads didn't have a spat that it determines whether or not Malfoy is your _friend_?"

"Well…yeah." It was the fact Mr. Malfoy and Dad were hostile to each other in their school days that predetermined Scorpius Malfoy and himself!

"Technically, James is the first-born Potter, and Malfoy is the first-born…everything."

"He's an only child," James supplied.

Rose's brow contorted in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"The paper almost makes a bigger deal about the Malfoy family than it does with _us_," James supplied. He rolled his eyes, then laughed. "Plus, I asked him once."

Al immediately perked at the mention. "You _asked_ him?"

"Sure. After Quidditch practice when Gryffindors were done and before Slytherin tryouts. Asked, 'So, any littluns running around'? The boy turned bright red and shook his head before stalking off with Zabini and his little sister."

"And where was _I_?" The middle Potter glared.

"Playing Exploding Snap? Getting in trouble? I dunno, probably hiding under the griffin statue in the common room." James split into a grin and wiggled his eyebrows. "All I know was, he was mortified beyond belief. Plus, anything the Malfoys do gets front cover on the newspaper. If they had another kid, Creevey and Skeeter would be all over it."

"I'm starting to think your brother's a stalker," Rose muttered. She flipped a page in her book and sighed. "If you're so curious to what is going on, Albus, why don't you ask Malfoy yourself? He's really not that bad."

Al arched an eyebrow. "You're not telling me that _you_ asked him about having siblings that could have possibly been misinterpreted into having little kids _too_, Rosie."

"No…but I had to do a paper with him in Arithmancy last year. The one where you and Keene Zabini burnt to a crisp the day that it was due?" Er. Yeah. Rose looked to him pointedly, shrugged nonchalantly, then carried on, "He's not that bad. We had to break the ice, considering he had the social capacity of a slug. It was like it was the first time he'd ever spoken to a girl since his mum or something."

"His mum's dead," James chimed again.

This time, it was Lily who made a noise of surprise. "You asked him that?"

"It was in the paper," Hugo commented. He made a face. "It was odd. Malfoy's mum was murdered a couple years back. Right before Lily and I started Hogwarts, I think. Mum, Uncle Harry, and Dad talked about sending him flowers, but, well…you know Dad. He was probably blowing it out of proportion and thought it meant we'd end up having dinner dates with Malfoy or something."

Al couldn't help the frown across his face at the news. It was probably his fault for never reading the Daily Prophet as it was, but Malfoy had lost his _mum_? From day one, the blond Slytherin had a frigid front and cared for little. Like today, Malfoy looked…at _peace _with himself being able to talk to his father and smiling.

After Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup last year, the pale teen looked _ecstatic. _But before Albus could even conjure the courage to wish him a congratulations, the Gryffindor team had whisked him away for a party of their own in the common room. If Malfoy was able to experience so much joy and happiness after winning the cup, shouldn't he have experienced pain when his mother died?

"You're thinking too much about it." James shook his head. "Stop being a git and racking your brain about this. You'll see Malfoy next week in class and he'll beat your arse at academics like he always does. Be happy; we may actually have a chance at the cup this year."

"Wouldn't you feel a lot more accomplished if Slytherin's best seeker—_ever_, mind you—was there when we won? Because we beat them fair and square?"

"Malfoy is _your_ enemy. Not mine." James shrugged and held his head high. "All I'm saying is: it's not healthy to get obsessed with Malfoy during your sixth year. Do something stupid and you still have to see the bloke next year, too."

Hugo snorted. But a knock on the door disrupted any continuation of their conversation completely.

"Come in," half the group chimed.

"Kids," Aunt Hermione's voice started. The door creaked open. She waddled through the door with a weary smile and placed a hand on her very pregnant belly. "Dinner's ready."

"What's for dinner?" The youngest Weasley eyed his mother curiously.

"Whatever your father's managed to scrape out of the freezer." She snorted—hilariously in a similar fashion to her son, then shook her head with disdain. Unbeknownst to Al, James had stood from the other bed in the room while Lily hopped mattresses. All three Potters hovered around one another, and instantaneously they saw their aunt's brow contort. Demeanor softening, she lowered her head and sighed. "I'm sorry kids, that we don't have more to offer you after today. It was long, I assume."

"It was fine," James chimed. He straightened his demeanor, and from the corner of his eye Al saw the tightness in his smile. The past twenty minutes or so, speaking of their parents' divorce had been something between them and their cousins. For an adult to talk about it…it left a bad taste in the middle Potter's mouth. "Aunt 'Mione?"

"Yes, James?"

"Do you think our parents will see eye-to-eye with one another anytime soon?" James raised his head as though it would give him a better look into their aunt's eyes. "Do you think they'll realize what idiots they're being and get back together?"

All three Potter children looked to her hopefully. From the side, Rose and Hugo, too, looked as though they didn't know what to say. Al honestly couldn't blame them.

He sucked in a breath as Aunt Hermione opened her mouth—

"I think that whatever happens you should be happy for your parents. And know that both of them are good people who would _never_, _ever_ put the blame on you three." Aunt 'Mione pursed her lips and humbly lowered her head as Albus felt his heart drop.

"'Was afraid you were gonna say that," James muttered under his breath. He wasn't satisfied with the answer, either.

A weak smile spread across their aunt's lips, apologetic and clearly unsure of what else to say. Instead, she placed one hand on her belly and gestured toward the hallway. "Alright then, kids. Let's go see the damage."

**xxx**

Later that night and one by one the children returned to the guest room. They'd ushered back while the adults were bickering over the burnt custard ("_Ronald, how on earth do you burn custard?") _and just like during dinner, hadn't said a word. Uncle Ron looked at a loss for words, Aunt Hermione kept biting her lip, and Hugo and Rose would look back and forth as though it was a thrilling Quidditch match. Ironically, Albus later mused, they had the correct number of people to play the game, not counting the new baby who would be here in a couple months.

It couldn't have been more than half an hour past midnight when the house finally fell asleep. Hue and Rosie left them a little bit after eleven, Uncle Ron left the house for a late-night case, and after hearing Aunt Hermione waddle from her office to her bedroom, they knew she was asleep.

The Weasleys weren't as active a bunch as Potters were, Al smiled. Then again, he was a Weasley, too.

Which made him frown.

His full name was Albus Severus _Potter._

If he'd ever went by his mum's maiden name, it would probably make him sick to his stomach. Not having 'Potter' attached to the latter end of his name made him feel exposed. Made it seem that for sure, Dad was no longer part of the family—

_Squeeeeeeeeaaaak. _

"Oof!"

"Is this what you do at night, big brother?" Oh, Merlin. Lily moved and—

"Lily, your knee is in my appendix—"

"Whoops."

He let out a breath of relief when she finally moved away, and blinked through the darkness. Quickly stretching, he lit the lamp on his nightstand and stared at his sister oddly. "What the hell are you doing?"

She shrugged, brown eyes fluttering with the weak light and buried herself in his pillow. "I'm sleeping with you tonight."

"Says who?"

"Says _me._"

Al frowned. But he knew for a fact that Lily never came to him unless she wanted to mess with him or was incredibly serious and incredibly desperate. She was stubborn that way; they all were.

Ironically she made a noise, reminding him that she was still there. Brown orbs looked to him, lips soft and pursed with a thoughtful look across her face. Quietly, she explained, "It's the first night of Mum and Dad's divorce. I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Al bit the inside of his mouth. Made sense. Despite the divorce being Mum and Dad's first civil agreement without readily throwing hexes, they'd left the custody issue along with items kept to the end. For most of the school year Al and the others would be away from home, so that wouldn't matter.

But during the holidays and over the summer would be a different story. One way or another, their family would be separated.

Sighing loudly, he pulled the covers from under her and offered them. "Here."

She smiled. "Thanks. What were you thinking about?"

"Mum and Dad. What's going to happen, since we're not actually going to be around for it." Al shrugged and made a small gap between him and his sister. He could faintly remember one night over the summer when Dad had been fed up enough to leave the house and Mum made plans to visit their grandmother (bringing Lily with her). James barged into his room, crossed. They spent two hours yelling and ranting, confessing _everything_ about their parents they were sick of. But in the end, both boys realized it only made them feel worse.

"I want them to be happy," Lily said quietly.

"That's why they would have to get back together," Al blabbered. He sighed raggedly, head pressed against his pillow and eyes looking up above to the shadows created from moonlight. "But not like they are now. Like they were _before_ the fighting started."

She scoffed and he felt her shake her head. "They've been fighting so long that I don't remember when they weren't."

"Before you started Hogwarts, I think," he muttered. "We went out for a goodbye dinner, remember? Like we do every year. Mum and Dad were so into each other that it was _sickening._ We'd have to have a barf bag right next to our dinner plates because they kept staring at one another. Sort of like Ast and James."

A giggle met his ear. "Only I think Astrid and James will end up lasting, once that idiot gets the balls to pop the question."

"Pfft. The first time they had dinner with our side of the family after officially becoming a couple, he was embarrassed to no _end. _Remember when Grandma told her about the thermometer story when he was a baby?"

"Mm. Best moments of my life," she relished. A soft giggle left her lips and she sighed.

As the youngest two Potter Children predicted, they heard the scuffle across carpeted floors, then the soft _thud _at the foot of the bed. If Albus could see his little sister, he was certain Lily was rolling her eyes. A third voice made itself present. "You do realize some of us are trying to sleep around here, right?"

"Shut your mouth," Lily chided in a fit of giggles. "You snore, big brother."

"Yeah?" James grinned against the lamp light, then relaxed. A sense of calmness fell across his face and he waved his wand.

"Whoa!" The bed stretched beneath the siblings until it was fit for three. With a crunch, James jumped onto the mattress.

"Scoot over," James commanded. "And Al, make sure your prick isn't humping me in the morning."

"So long as you don't moan in my ear like I'm Ast. _Again._" Al shoved his good pillow in the eldest Potter's face and laughed quietly when James glared, glowing deep red.

"And when's the last time you even talked to a girl that wasn't blood-related, Al?" James snickered and they finally settled across the mattress: Lily to the left, Albus in the middle, and James to the right. One of the eldest Gryffindor's hands slung over Albus's stomach tightly while Lily's hand clutched the blanket between her fingers.

"I-I…" Al stammered. A Quidditch Star he was. Talking to a girl—he definitely wasn't.

"It's a new year, big brother," Lily chirped. She smirked, reaching over to the lamp light off. "Who is it you're trying to impress?~ Alaina Creech, right?"

"Since First Year!" A cackle rose from James's mouth. "You seriously shot high for a Ravenclaw, little bro."

"Piss off." Al forced his embarrassment to turn into a smile. Fortunately he knew that both meant well. Mum mentioned once when Astrid and James hit their one-year anniversary that Potters always found that one person they trusted for life—then they would never leave them. Even with their mother, there was a humble respect Dad had whenever they saw each other after agreeing on divorce.

Astrid and James would be together for a very long time, Al decided. Lily—whatever the _species_ Lily married would never deserve her. But once both brothers approved of the guy and thought of him as an excellent mate, Lily would be set, too.

And as for him, he was sure his perfect girlfriend would be Alaina Creech.

_That_ would be a nice way to start off the school year. A crooked smile spread across his lips. And she would be his girlfriend—maybe as long as Ast and James.

"G'night James, g'night Albus," Lily muttered quietly.

"Night Lil." Grogginess fogged James's tone and he yawned. "G'night Al."

Albus took in a deep breath. Tomorrow would be their first day without their parents. It would be Mum _or_ Dad from then on.

"G'night Lily. G'night, James."

**xxx**

It was three days until the Potters saw their parents at the same time again. For those three days they remained with their Weasley cousins, anticipating when they would see their parents again. Mum and Dad evidently arranged a schedule since then—Mum would be there to greet them in the mornings and Dad would come late at night and check on them when he thought his children were asleep. (They weren't, most of the time.)

From what Al understood, Mum was keeping the house and Dad was buying a flat closer to work.

When their dad didn't know how to open up, he forced his mind to focus on other things. It was an irritating and horrible trait Al had inherited.

Down the side of the cobblestone tracks, Uncle Ron had a hand tightly wrapped around Aunt Hermione's waist. Hue and Rosie exchanged words with their parents and were even talking to Aunt Hermione's pregnant belly.

Mum and Dad stood in front of their kids, side-by-side with a noticeable gap between them.

"Daddy," Lily breathed with relief. She threw her arms around their father and Dad chuckled.

"Hi sweetie." The eldest Potter smiled tenderly and kissed her on the forehead.

"Be careful," Mum said softly. She kissed the edge of her two sons' faces. "I love you both."

There weren't hidden glances. There weren't teasing smiles, hands grazing, waist-touching, shoulder pressing, body leaning, playful banter; no, _'Make sure you don't blow up the school. __**Again.'**_s or, '_Don't be as shy as your father—if you want to ask a girl out, then ask the girl out!', _or, _'Maybe. But if I weren't so shy I would have never landed such a beautiful woman like yourself, love.' _They didn't kiss. Fred and Uncle George didn't pop out, and no one amongst the crowd was screaming, '_Psyche!' _

They were divorced and happy about it.

A sanguine color was in Mum's face in a way it hadn't been in years. The creases in the corners of her eyes were smiling and she looked at peace. Mum looked like a proud mother that was wishing her three kids off to school.

Dad was different. He looked lost with his life and unsure of himself. His eyes were distant, voice clouded and hard to decipher. _Miraculously_, Aunt Hermione commented when the group of seven arrived at King's Cross Station, _Your father managed to dress himself in this morning. _

One of the mornings when Al asked Aunt Hermione if she thought Dad would be okay, she'd responded: _With time, he'll be fine. Your father just has a habit of drawing all the guilt to himself. He's an idiot that way._

Albus drew a breath when he saw both his parents make awkward eye contact.

"I hope you've been doing well," Dad said kindly. He smiled gently, unprovoked.

In return, Mum smiled back, lifting her head to kiss him just as kindly on the cheekbone. "And I hope you haven't buried yourself in a cave while I was away."

"Never."

"Good."

Silence.

Looking to the side, Al's gaze was met with James's and Lily's, who both seemed just as uncomfortable as he was. It was the first civil conversation their parents had in years, other than the divorce. With a large inhale of breath, his older brother was the first to move. "I'm going to find Astrid."

Both parents cocked their heads in surprise, interrupted.

James snorted, clearly unamused. "Bye."

_Awkward._

Lily sighed as loudly as their older brother and skipped toward her mother. "Mum! I want to talk to Aunt Hermione and see when the baby's going to be due."

"You mean in three months—?" Without other warning, Lily dragged their mother toward the direction of their Weasley cousins. Mum looked over her shoulder to Al, somewhat confused and slightly apologetic.

Which again left Al and his father alone. He looked to Dad and felt himself grow sick to his stomach. But, Albus realized quickly, Dad wasn't looking back at him. Turning his head in the same direction as his father, the middle Potter blinked in confusion.

Then he saw Mr. Malfoy and his son.

Jaw slackening, green eyes quickly darted back to his father's. Just as before, there was a heaviness to the man's eyes like he'd seen a ghost. All of the regrets Dad came to the train station with now lay before him. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something but he never did.

It wasn't until Malfoy looked back to Al that he realized he was staring at the pair too.

"Dad—"

"His wife's dead, you know." Dad's voice came out in a soft tenor, clearly distracted. Still it ran through Al like cold water and startled the middle child. Beneath his glasses, Dad's gaze narrowed and without shame, he continued staring. Mr. Malfoy was a different story—Malfoy kept his father locked in a gaze. "Reportedly during your second year Astoria Malfoy had gone on a business trip and represented the family's company. Word came back she was murdered because she was a Death Eater."

Al shivered. Being the son to the man titled the Savior of the Wizarding World meant knowing most things fleshed out during the Second Wizarding War. Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, Dad, and the rest of their family disliked reliving the horrible days from the war, so the word 'Death Eater' wasn't passed very often in their household.

"Dad," he started once again, this time firmer.

In an instant, Dad relaxed, tearing his gaze away from the Malfoys. He looked back to his son as though he'd never been staring in the first place, then smiled. "I have something to give you." He stuffed a hand in his pocket, dug around carefully for the present. A moment later, the eldest Potter pulled out a glimmering chain. He pulled out Albus's palm and gingerly set the object between his hands.

Three rings encircled the charm, screwed intricately and tightly in place. In the very center was a tiny little hourglass with grains of sand at the bottom.

"It's a Time-Turner," Al remarked, eyes widening in surprise. He remembered reading about the object just last year in the text books. The picture was clearly nothing compared to the real thing, which gleamed beautifully in his hands. "I thought the Ministry of Magic kept a tight lock on these."

"That they do," Dad nodded. He smiled, hands encompassing Al's. They were thicker; broader and callused, just as Al's was. The only difference being that one man played Quidditch and the other was the hands of an Auror.

_A hero_, Al thought in the back of his head. He was shaken out of his thoughts as tender green eyes looked him the face, commanding full attention. They softened as Dad took a breath.

"It's from a case your uncle and I worked on a couple months back. Even the apparent, 'Savior of the Wizarding World,' needs to beg on his knees for one of these." Dad smiled wryly, pulled the chain out of Al's hands, then looped it around his son's neck. "Oddly enough they never asked for it back. Suppose if they forgot back then, they'd keep forgetting it now."

"And you're giving it to me," Al said carefully. He looked up to his dad, disbelieving. There had to be a catch.

"Your Aunt 'Mione used it in her third year to take extra classes." Dad pulled back, admiring the necklace against his son. A smile looped across his face. "Each axel spun by the hourglass is equivalent to an hour. I figure that if James and Lily drive you crazy during the school year you can use it to find an empty room and clear your head for a bit before your next lesson."

"Dad…"

"Be careful with it." His father's face grew strict and grim, and he waved a finger instructively. "Don't be seen by anyone you're not supposed to. Otherwise the Ministry will have my head and yours."

This time Al was the one to snort. Evidently Dad was still the troublemaker James inherited his qualities from. Looking up from the necklace, he saw his father's face: weary, with crinkles around his eyes of a man who'd seen too much. A bit of fuzz decorated his jaw line and a small smile rested across Dad's face. After all, it was always genuine.

The horn sounded. Al tucked the necklace beneath his shirt, pulled away from his father, and looked toward the train. "Thanks Dad. I should go."

He moved to get his stuff and found a hand planted firmly on his shoulder. Looking back, he found his dad's eyebrows furrowed, almost fearsome.

Reluctantly, Al touched his father's hand and struggled for a smile. "I'll see you at Christmas?"

"Of course." His father nodded and pulled him into a tight hug. "Bye, son."

Al's heart wrenched tightly, head resting in the side of his father's neck. It was hard to breath with arms tight around him. He felt like a little kid again, running to his parents' room in the middle of the night because of a bad dream or because James had pulled a prank. Back then he could bury himself between both his parents, have both sets of arms wrapped around him, and know that for the rest of the night he would be safe.

_Merlin_, it was his first departure for Hogwarts all over again.

"Bye, Dad."


End file.
